


the less you see

by rebelsquad (wolveheart)



Series: where the magic is happening [2]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, based on Now You See Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolveheart/pseuds/rebelsquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You want me to investigate a group of four magicians, going by the name of – do they really call themselves ‘Melbourne Peaches’? - a group that may or may not have stolen money from a banker on the Solomon Islands by using magic. And you want me to do this investigation with two guys from Interpol, because – excuse me, why was I chosen for this again?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the less you see

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uniformly (dustystars)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=uniformly+%28dustystars%29).



To say that Vera hadn’t been particularly thrilled when Lena called her into her office that morning to tell her the news… well, that would put it pretty accurately.

Since getting transferred to FBI headquarters, Vera hadn’t been assigned a new partner yet. While that didn’t bother her much – there was still a lot of opportunity for friendly talk in the breakroom or while commiserating over the horrible public transport conditions – it still put her at a disadvantage when it came to cases. Usually, she got most of the boring, half-legitimate ones that often turned out to be simple misunderstandings, or kept her confined to her desk for the whole time.

It was frustrating, to say the least. Especially once the guys from Homicide started boasting about their fruitful operations over the coffee machine.

(All Vera had wanted was some coffee before she had to call Mrs. Maloney for another statement. Had she wanted to know about Dunworthy nearly getting shot in the arm while his colleagues looked at him like he deserved a medal for doing nothing but his job? No, no she had not.)

Lena Basilone, the departmental supervisor whose espresso was to die for, was her closest friend. Which didn’t mean that Lena would let favoritism win over her and assign Vera a good case for a change.

Least of all this time.

“You want me to investigate a group of four magicians, going by the name of – do they really call themselves ‘Melbourne Peaches’? - a group that may or may not have stolen money from a banker on the Solomon Islands by using magic. And you want me to do this investigation with two guys from Interpol, because – excuse me, why was I chosen for this again?”

Lena gave her a sympathetic smile as she closed the folder with the case files.

“This case requires a certain finesse, both with the press and people and our international connections. When I want heads bashed in, I choose JP. If the governor has a special interest in the case, I pick John, as much as I dislike it. But this one?” She leaned forward, fixing Vera with an earnest look. “I need someone who takes this seriously and isn’t as quick to write it off as nonsense. Someone who’ll work well with a team comprised of people not coming from inside our own organization. In short,” she smiled, “I need you.”

Reduced to silence, Vera had to take moment to let the words sink in.

None of that was exaggerated or made up, and Vera was by no means someone who disobeyed orders. It was just that she longed to walk into the breakroom and for once not feel like she was the unpaid intern sorting paper clips and getting constantly addressed with ‘hey sweetheart, why don’t you –‘. As interesting as the case sounded, it didn’t exactly promise future respect from her colleagues.

Vera returned the smile, even though it was a slightly dimmer version.

“Why aren’t you the one on our recruitment posters, Lena?”

Laughing, Lena pushed the file over the desk into Vera’s direction.

“Don’t you worry about how little you see of my photo-shopped face in your life.” Additionally to the file, she handed Vera a sheet with personnel information. “You’ll meet Agents Juergens and Phillips this afternoon at three. Show this bureau what its finest agents are capable of.”

What else was Vera supposed to do in the face of such high praise and faith other than taking the offered file and getting to work?

| | |

Her first impression of Lew Juergens was “I’m going to get a crick in my neck from looking up to that face”. That impression was to stick with her for another while. Her hand nearly disappeared in his when he greeted her with a handshake, although it was less crushing than she’d anticipated.

With Sidney Phillips it was a different story, and not just because he was on eye-level with her.

No, it had more to do with the way he said “ma’am, so pleased to meet you and work with you” while he enthusiastically shook her hand. Vera couldn’t help but feel charmed, a feeling that was certainly intensified by Phillips’ incredibly young face. She didn’t know much about the training period at Interpol, but if he were an FBI agent, he’d be barely out of the academy, if that.

After a closer look, Juergens didn’t appear that much older. His height and built distracted a bit from that, though. With a physique like that – the broad shoulders being even more accentuated by the well-fitting suit - he could’ve easily started a career in professional basketball or football instead of law enforcement.

His reaction to Phillips calling Vera “ma’am” was a chuckle so warm and somehow fitting to his entire person, that Vera immediately dubbed him “Chuckler” in her head.

(Later she found out that just in the first two minutes of their first meeting, she had already figured out the correct and widely used nickname for this gentle giant. She couldn’t help but feel proud about that.)

When Phillips let go of her hand, she gave him a smile.

“There’s no need for “ma’am”s. I guess we’ll be working on this case for a while. ‘Agent Keller’ will work perfectly.”

Chuckler threw a casual arm around the shoulders of his sheepish-looking partner.

“That’s our Sid. You think he got the Southern gentleman politeness injected into his bloodstream when he was still baking sand cakes on the playground.”

Conspiratorially, Chuckler leaned closer and lowered his voice.

“But please, what’s your opinion on using first names after a good work relationship has been established?”

Phillips looked aghast, but Vera merely mirrored Juergens’ position and voice and replied, “You’ll know it when we get there.”

Nodding, a brilliant grin on his lips, Chuckler abandoned Phillips in favor of his laptop bag.

“Then we should get started.”

| | |

Real magic or no, the case turned out to be a lot trickier than assumed.

After two weeks of turning over files until they knew the words by heart, of making a thousand phone calls, checking and double-checking background stories and witness accounts, they still had nothing that would justify an arrest.

The guys in the breakroom kept making snide remarks about what a waste of time and resources this whole endeavor was, and Vera had perfected the art of brushing over those kinds of comments and staying unaffected, but it still stung.

At least Chuckler and Sidney, as they were soon be called, were wonderful partners. They never interrupted her when she was presenting her results or proposed a new approach. Chuckler brought coffee in the morning and Sidney, living next to a fruit stand, made sure they were always well-supplied with fresh produce. Not to mention their competence and general likeability that made working with them almost a joy.

Almost, because all their hard work and time investment didn’t lessen the frustration of getting nowhere with their case.

Until, finally, someone had mercy and provided them with the necessary information that brought the four magicians, source of many long work days and little sleep, into the FBI’s interrogation rooms.

| | |

Hesitantly, Sidney entered the office where Vera was finishing up the paper work for the arrests. His presence was a welcome distraction and she lifted her eyes to smile encouragingly at him.

Fidgeting, he swallowed, brow furrowing in concern.

“I’m, uh... I regret having to say this but… It appears that…” He visibly struggled for words and, to keep it from twitching, ran his hand through his hair.

Vera gave him her undivided attention, feeling unease creeping under her skin.

“Come on, Sidney. What is it?”

Inhaling deeply, he rushed out, “Ms. Karamanlis got out of her handcuffs. Again. She said it “just kinda sorta happened, sorry”. I’m not sure how to deal with this.”

Vera sighed.

+

“Mr. Smith, we’d greatly appreciate it if you could neither nap on the table nor hypnotize our fellow agents to do the Macarena.”

The interrogated grinned slowly.

“So, smoking isn’t off-limits? Good to know.”

With unexpected quickness, he lit up a cigarette (no one could explain where the hell that had come from) and before Chuckler or Vera could intervene the smoke alarm went off. They barely managed to salvage the files from getting drenched by the sprinkler system.

+

Vera folded her hands over the cold table of the interrogation room.

“So, Mr. Leckie –“

The man with the unruly curls gave her a winning beam.

“Lady like you is welcome to call me ‘Robert’, or ‘Bob’, whichever you prefer.”

Clearing his throat disapprovingly, Chuckler stepped in.

“Mr. Lucky –“

“Leckie.”

“Mr. Leckie, we have it on good authority that you, as the leader of your group –“

“Oh, do people really say that?” Leckie leaned back in his chair, visibly self-satisfied. “Well, my eloquent tongue had to be appreciated some day. Although,” he looked at Vera, “rest assured, my tongue can do far more things than just speaking.”

Vera smiled placidly.

“Right now, I only wish it would cooperate and tell us how you managed to get that money out of the bank.”

Leckie chuckled. “Oh, she’s blessed with beauty and with wit! My lady, dare I say, what lucky fool I am, what privilege I have! I’m hardly worth your sigh.”

Turning his head to Vera, Chuckler whispered, “Is… he quoting Shakespeare?”

+

Conley’s skill with a deck of cards would be admirable, if only he didn’t pay more attention to the pieces of paper than to his interrogators.

“Mr. Conley,” Chuckler tried for a third time, only to get a handful of cards shoved in his face.

“Choose one, but don’t tell me which,” Conley prompted.

“We’re trying to have civil conversation here,” Vera said. “I don’t even know how you managed to hide those cards from our officers, but we’re not here to play card tricks.”

“It’s magic,” Conley deadpanned. “Come on, I’ve been practicing for two weeks.”

He performed an impressive flourish without dropping a single card.

Obviously having a hard time suppressing his fascination, Chuckler snatched the cards out of Conley’s hands with a surprising tenderness.

“This case is a tough nut to crack anyway, please don’t make it any harder.”

Conley grinned. “I heard the Neanderthals used rocks to crack nuts. Maybe you should try your head, it’s big and rocklike.”

| | |

From her spot on the park bench, Vera observed the scene on the opposite side of the street.

They hadn’t gotten anything that provided them with a valid reason for extended custody of the tricksters, and so they had to unlock three sets of handcuffs and escort the four out the front entrance to their freedom.

Vera could taste a hint of bitterness and disappointment, and the reason for it weren’t the four cups of cheap coffee she’d gotten from the mediocre coffee machine down in the lobby.

Discontented, she watched a sleek black limousine draw up to the figures eagerly awaiting it. She watched the guy with the sandy blond hair who the others called ‘Hoosier’ slide lithe like an eel onto the rear seat bench, closely followed by the woman, Stella, who laughed at Leckie’s failed attempt to hold the door open for her. Conley got a noogie for his inability to keep his laughter to himself, before he and Leckie disappeared in the interior of the car as well and the vehicle rolled out of Vera’s line of sight.

So she fixed her gaze to the ground. The sun played in the leaves of the few surrounding trees, and with the breeze moving the treetops the shadows danced in eerie formations, constantly changing.

Behind her, she could hear footsteps approaching her bench. Recognizing its cadence, she kept looking at the spectacle of light and shadow on the concrete. And sure enough, it was none other than Chuckler who sat down beside her.

For a few moments, they let the relative silence prevail. A few cars honked in the distance, a woman called after her dog, but apart from that it was uncharacteristically tranquil.

With a careful nudge, Chuckler brought her out of her absent-mindedness.

“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll get them next time. Okay?”

Out of the corners of her eyes, Vera could see a confident grin lighting up his face. There was hardly anything more infectious than Chuckler’s delighted facial expressions.

“Yes, probably,” she conceded, trying a smile of her own.

The sudden sound of someone coming up behind them made her turn her head just in time to catch Sidney flopping down on the bench on her other side.

“Here you are,” he said, slightly out of breath and cheeks tinged red. “I’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes. Look what I got.” With that, he procured a deck of cards out of his suit’s breast pocket. They looked suspiciously like those that Conley had been toying with.

“Awesome,” Chuckler beamed, reaching over Vera to make grabby hands at the cards. “C’mon, gimme. I spent the past four nights watching Youtube tutorials for card tricks, I wanna see if I can do one.”

Sidney hesitated. “I got them signed an’ everything. If you lose one to the wind, I’ll make you pay for a ticket to those guys’ next show so I can get a new set.”

“Sure, sure, just –“

Finally, Sidney relented and handed over the deck.

Chuckler’s grin got impossibly wider. After a shuffle that was far from the skillful and elegant flourish Conley had shown them just a few hours ago, he turned to Vera.

“Alright, lady of the day. Pick a card.”

Amused, Vera raised her eyebrows.

“We’re supposed to catch these guys, not become part of their company… fraternity… guild… whatever ‘magicians’ like to call themselves.”

“See,” Chuckler said in a tone not unlike her second-grade arts teacher, “that’s where the flaw in your logic is. You gotta think like them if you want to catch them.”

“Yeah,” Sidney agreed. “And it’s just one card, how bad can that be? Come on, I don’t think Chuckler will let us leave before we’ve indulged him.”

“Damn right.”

“Alright, alright.” With a laugh, she let her hand hover over the fanned out cards. “So how does this work? I pick one?” She could feel Sidney leaning closer to look over her shoulder.

Chuckler nodded. “Pick one, look at it, memorize it, put it back in the deck.”

Doing as told, Vera pulled one of cards out of the fan. Queen of Hearts. Next to her, Sidney made a noise somewhere between a chortle and a coo.

Bracketed between the two nicest colleagues she’s had the pleasure of working with so far, the Queen of Hearts in her hands and sunlight dancing across her skin, it was easy to push the earlier failures to the back of her mind and enjoy the break.

It wasn’t all over yet.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> \- titles taken from the movie, including the series title, due to lack of imagination  
> \- a kingdom for whoever wants to write something for this series (i didn't manage to include vera and leckie or someone else having a talk about faith/religion, which i'm still a little sad about tbh)  
> \- in the movie they're actually in Las Vegas, i'm not sure why i changed it to L.A.?  
> (but somewhere runner says "hey leckie, since i'm clearly the most angelic of this group, will you take me to hollywood with you?" and leckie's just like "no you're ugly, i want hoosier" but joke's on him cause in the end all four of them raise hell on the walk of fame as leckie goes on and on about fitzgerald, bukowski etc. this i am sure about)


End file.
